Those Baby Blues
by Mystic Sorrow
Summary: Bruce didn't do relationships, none of any kind. Relationships, even allies, create weaknesses. So how did he end up with a baby on his doorstep? Daddybats and biological baby Dick.
1. Prologue: How I Met Your Mother

**Gotham City, 2:43 PM**

**Early June, four years ago**

Bruce internally flinched as the loud claps and occasional cheers rang through his ears. Physically, Bruce Wayne smiled as three cameras and two reporters for Gotham News snapped him shaking hands with the Mayor after cutting the ribbon to the newly developed the Martha Wayne Academy of Art.

Three years previously a fire had burned the previous Gotham Academy of the Arts. Wayne Enterprises, being so generous when it came to the community, sponsored the rebuilding of the college. And of course, Bruce, not only being the company's CEO but his mother's name also decorated the plaque above the front doors.

In his early years of adulthood, Thomas Wayne had attended a painting class at the very academy that had been reduced to rubble. Joining a beginners painting class, Thomas caught the first glance of Martha Kane, the class instructor. Martha had been the head painting teacher, Mr. Hemming's best student and took over two of his six painting classes. After discovering Thomas had no talent in the art world, Thomas and Martha began their romantic relationship. Many of Martha's paintings created at the school had received rewards and later donated to the LeFrange Art Gallery, which was owned by a close family friend of the Wayne family.

When Bruce personally informed Hemmings, the headmaster of seventeen years, of the plans for rebuilding he had specifically requested the the school be renamed in his mother's honor.

* * *

Bruce's eye twitched for the third time in the last six minutes, prompting a sharp pinch to the bridge of his nose. How had he allowed for Lucius talk him into this again?

As happy as he was about the rebuilding of a school his parents had attended, he did not see why it was so important he be the one to unveil the building. Bruce knew he was being more brutish then normal, this was an important investment that drew him that much closer to the parents that had vanished so long ago, but when you are a part time multi-billionaire and full time vigilante who happens to be running on three days of no sleep it hard to keep your moods high.

Bruce sighed once again, swiftly grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing caterer. It wasn't a fancy outing, especially compared to all the fancy outings Bruce has seen in his life, but not one to be called a casual gathering.

Professors, donors, potential students all mingled happily in the cool summer atmosphere, bathing in the sunlight. Wooden pavilions offered shade for those who would prefer their makeup not to run, which is where the Wayne monarch had decided to locate himself.

Bruce idly pulled at his tie, silently cursing his butler when the air suddenly started to feel too stuffy for his more isolated tastes. He stole a glance at his gold wrist watch, a keepsake of his fathers, to see it was only just past three thirty. The event didn't technically end until five, but maybe he could convince Alfred to pick him up early.

That's when he felt the slight tug at his suit sleeve.

The sight that met him was one he didn't know to laugh at or step back in surprise. A young woman with deep red hair stared up at him with wide blue eyes that were protected by thick rimmed glasses that would normally be seen on a man in his seventies. She pulled them off, Bruce noted as her clear, pale skin turned slightly pink under his gaze; and most likely not from the sun. Unlike the other guests who chose to dress semi-casual, this girl wore tight fitting pants that were decorated with different colored paint stains and a few hand prints here and there. Her Led Zeppelin shirt was just slightly a size to big, but the tares around the sleeves and collar and worn color showed she wore it often. Obviously this woman had something to do with the school's re-opening, but judging by her attire and young age he could only assume she was a student.

"Mr. Wayne?" She asked, her voice a slightly huskier sound then he would expect to see from a petite girl her size.

She came just barely up past his chin, causing him to have to gently tilt his face so as to look into her blue irises.

"Yes?"

She smiled a broad grin, showing off a dimple under her right cheek, but not the left one, looking as if for a moment she had believed she had grabbed the wrong man.

"I just wanted to thank you," She paused, but soon flustered over her broad statement. "For opening the school, I mean."

Bruce felt the corner of his mouth twitch, he was certain that muscle had stopped working the night on Crime Alley. "Well I should hope so, I would rather not do any more social event activities today."

For a moment her face went blank with confusion, but just as soon as it had came it was replaced with the same smile she had previously worn. Bruce watched the tops of her cheeks pull up to reveal perfectly white teeth and also expose the faintest hint of a freckle under her left eye.

"May I ask from whom am I receiving thanks from?" Bruce asked, letting a light tone of playful sarcasm leak its way into his words.

The girl blinked at him for a moment, suddenly realizing she hadn't properly introduced herself! Her father had taught her better manners then this, she scolded herself, don't forget because of the breathtaking man standing less then a foot away.

"Of course!" She took a small step back to allow enough room to out stretch her arm towards the man standing in front of her. "The name's Victoria McGreggor."

Bruce took a moment to stare at her small, dainty fingers that had the sign of paint under the nails. "Bruce Wayne."

She let out a throaty laugh as they released one anothers hands. "Oh, I know who _you_ are."

Bruce allowed himself to give her a small smile. "Well, it is very nice to meet you Ms. McGreggor."

"Oh, God, please," She quickly rushed out. "Just Victoria. Ms. McGreggor is what they call my aunt Annabella, and she's been divorced three times and lives alone with her two cats."

Bruce stood still, looking at her with slight shock, but suddenly a hearty laugh pushed its way from his throat and causing a few heads to turn at the sight of Gotham's playboy laughing uncontrollably.

"Uh, did I..."

"No, no, I'm sorry Victoria," Bruce finally said once he caught his breath. "That was just not the response I had been expecting."

Her unsure expression quickly changed back into one of enjoyment.

Bruce subconsciously decided he would be able to survive another hour or two.

* * *

**Gotham City, 8:04 PM**

**LeFrange Art Gallery**

**September 21, four years later**

Bruce stared at the light pastel painting, lovingly named "Mother's Little Boy", of a young child running to a lonely swing beside a shining lake. His eyes traced every brush strokes knowingly, seeing the paint brush faintly make its way across the canvas with the light demand to stay sill plays in the back of his mind.

"Bruce!"

The billionaire turned to see an older man make his way to him, dressed in a dark suit and light shade of purple popping from his tie.

"George." Bruce greeted the gallery owner with a stern shake of the hand. "Good to see you."

"I could say the same for you, boy." The man laughed. "How long's it been? Two years?"

"No, couldn't be more then a year. You must be losing your memory with your age."

"Ha, you wish." George LeFrange barked.

Bruce smiled at his parent's old friend. It had been too long since he had last seen LeFrange, Bruce silently admitted. Bruce didn't know if it was because of his work overload that came with handling two jobs or the fact that George always seemed to remind him of his late father.

"So, you here for the art showing?" LeFrange asked.

"Yes," Bruce answered, slowly placing his hands in his pockets. "Lucius thought it was high time I got out of the office and go to an outing that required a date."

"Is that right?" George chuckled. "Sounds just like Lucius. Didn't see you come in with anyone else, though."

"She canceled last minute." Bruce confessed. "Dancer. Her understudy got sick, so she couldn't use her night off pass."

"Hm, shame."

Bruce merely shrugged, slightly turning to catch another glance at the painting hanging on the wall behind them.

"No matter how many paintings I get coming in here," George spoke from beside him. "None will ever be as amazing as your mother's artwork."

Bruce felt a soft smile pinch his mouth.

"Well, if you're done hiding from the rest of society I would implore you to go and see the show." George said, turning to go back into the show room to see to his guests. "They say the artist is one hell of a gal."

Bruce stayed a few moments longer, recommitting his mother's painting to memory before turning to go and join the party.

The show room was the largest room in the gallery (other then the basement) and was furnished with nothing but the artwork decorating the white walls and the cool hardwood floors. Bruce took an offered glass of wine from the nearest caterer and made his way to the closest painting.

The city was nestled in a dark twilight, buildings discerned by their darker shade and the skyline dotted with white stars. The slight hint of a dark figure sat on the closest building, watching over the painted city before him.

"I call it _The Protector_."

Bruce turned to meet those oh so blue eyes that held a tone of laughter, no longer hidden behind a barrier of glass. Bright red locks were pinned professionally into a bun at the back of her neck. Her black dress squeezed out every curve of her body, much different then the baggy clothing she had previously decided to wear, coming to just above her knees and giving a wide range of her collar bone. Red lips upturned to reveal the hidden dimple and freckle.

"Bruce."

"Victoria."

They stared at one another for a few moments before he replied in a voice not quite a whisper, but softer then he had previously been speaking.

"It's good to see you."

Her smile widened. "I wasn't sure you would remember me." She admitted.

He smirked. "I didn't at first, seeing as you dressed for the occasion."

She opened her face in shocked enjoyment, but quickly closed it. "Well seeing as we only spoke for an hour, what should I expect?"

"You don't give me nearly the credit I deserve." He told her. "I remember very much of our conversation."

"Oh?" She questioned, slightly switching her weight onto her right leg, crossing her arms.

He smirked once again, the challenge accepted. He too crossed his arms as he stood straighter.

"Your a first generation American in your family, your father and mother both immigrating from Scotland. You only like strawberry flavored ice cream, all the others taste too much like one another. You took gymnastics all through your childhood and into high school. Your a dog person, your favorite color is aquamarine, your a Virgo and you are a painting instructor at the MW Academy of Art."

Bruce admittedly, only in his mind, had misjudged the being a student of the academy. Four years ago Victoria would have been staring her first year of teaching painting.

She smiled, as if expecting him to remember the small facts of her life.

"Impressive. I would do the same, but sadly you gave me little information of yourself other then your name."

His smile faded slightly, turning to look back into the room that held his mother's painting, then towards the exit.

Sensing the shift in the mood, Victoria folded her hands in front of her and gave him another hopeful smile.

"So what brings you here? There's no charity event needing any donors anywhere in the Gallery is there?"

He gave her a small smile. He look around the room, seeming to take in every painting in two seconds.

"I received a ticket from a friend. He said it was supposed to be the best art show of the year."

He didn't have to look at her to see the pale skin of her neck and cheeks turn a darker shade.

"Seeing as I only like the best of anything I knew I couldn't miss the opportunity." Bruce smirked.

They stood in another silence, this time one less awkward, just listening to the sound of men chatting about the painting the were observing and the clack of women's heels against the floor.

Victoria finally decided to break the silence.

"I saw your mother's paintings." She admitted.

She watched his face closely, waiting for that closed off look to return once more, but only saw a look of remembrance quietly spread across his masculine features.

"They're amazing."

He nodded slowly, seeming to not fully hear her compliment. He reached up to finger the collar of his tie irritatedly, just as he had that day four years ago.

She smiled, clearly seeing his discomfort.

"Hey," She said suddenly, grabbing hold of his suit sleeve. "You wanna get out of here?"

He looked at her as if her hair had turned a more ghastly color then it already was.

"What?"

"Leave. You and me." She confirmed. "It's kinda stuffy in here."

He opened his mouth, but just as suddenly closed it. He looked around the room as if trying to see if anyone was listening to their conversation, before turning his dark eyed gaze onto her.

"Victoria, you can't just leave your own show."

"Sure I can!" She argued as she placed her unoccupied hand on her hip stubbornly. "Come on, lets go grab a beer. I'll pay!"

He looked into those bright blue eyes, then at those dainty fingers holding the dark fabric of his very expensive suit, then back at her begging gaze.

He sighed, but a smile decorated his face.

"Alright, but I don't want to hear any of those silly excuses that you forgot your wallet when you don't have any money."

* * *

**So this is my new story I decided to write about if Bruce had been Dick's biological father. It's an idea that has been rattling around my head for months and when I had an opening to write tonight, instead of writing the next chapter for Trials like I should, I did the prologue for this story! I hope I'll be able to update soon, but seeing as I have TWO stories now I have no idea, but don't give up hope!**

**So, in these chapters I don't think it will be a chronological story. the first few chapters will be when Bruce receives Dick (HINT!) and his dealing with having a son. This story will probably be a few one shots here and there and then a few mini stories included somewhere in there :) I'm also thinking of doing a few chapters later of Bruce and Victoria getting to know each other, dating, and the whole them breaking up and her leaving and Bruce being a single daddy process, because I really like writing Victoria's character. (yes, this is one of _those_ stories, because no matter how much I like a character, no one interferes with my daddybats!)  
**

**Please leave comments of what you think and any story ideas are welcome!  
**

**Thanks guys, less then three 3  
**


	2. That's Where Babys Come From

Bruce was, to say the least, exhausted. Batman had gone through two drug busts, one resulting in a full on gang war as well as fighting the masked vigilante. It should have been simple, but with the two being barely an hour apart and on completely opposite sides of Gotham, Batman had been grumpier then usual when dealing with the criminals. That was it, the night was quiet. Batman was sure he would be home in time to get a few hours of sleep before he had to catch his plane for Japan in the morning.

That's when the boy scout decided to call.

Batman's escaped bank robber from the previous night had high jacked to Metropolis. Usually Batman would never allow any criminal of Gotham a chance to run into any other city but his own, but Joker had efficiently decided to break out of Arkham the same night, prompting the vigilante to stay put. When he had contacted Gordon he was informed the were tracking the criminal at the very moment, causing Batman to assume his resources could be put to use in other areas. Apparently not.

With the hour it takes to drive to Metropolis while going a good deal higher then the speed limit requirements, and the extra three hours of apprehending the criminal, fighting with Clark and driving back to his own city to return said escaped convict before returning home, Bruce was, to say the least, exhausted.

Alfred had gone to bed long before his homecoming, having called in on his way back that he had sustained no injuries that needed the butler's immediate care.

By the time Bruce had finally changed and made it back upstairs it was already gone five in the morning. He glared silently at the grandfather clock teasing him. Since when had he had a grandfather clock in his bedroom?

Bruce slowly turned his head to take in the furnishings of the main living room. The Victorian styled furnishings had always been a favorite of his mother's. She said they gave the house more character to its almost church like architecture and seven floors of stone and hard wood. Four couches sat empty before a unused fire place, three armchairs of the same fabric were more to the corner beside the window to take in the spring lighting.

Bruce told himself it was time to go up to his own room, not dally in on of the many room sitting in his house. He had a plane to catch in less then four hours, might as well use one of those to sleep. But as soon as the thought of sleep crossed his mind, Bruce felt himself sprawl across one of the couches, squeezing his large figure into an awkward position so as not to fall off.

Not even five minutes later, there was a tapping noise. A tapping noise that, despite Bruce telling himself it's just a tree, Batman's senses became red alert for any sudden warnings of danger.

Another tapping noise; this time louder. Bruce stayed where he was. Silence. Then the tapping noise once more. Then again, but suddenly taking on the characteristics of a soft banging.

Bruce pushed himself upright, glaring at the darkness around him. He slowly made his way out into the main hallway, leading to the main living room, the kitchen, his father's study and the main staircase that lead up to the front door. He waited, listening closely for which direction to head.

For a moment he was sure he'd missed it, and gotten up for no reason; then came the knocking.

The front door.

_Now who in the hell would be knocking on the damn door at five in the morning?_

Bruce begrudgingly made his way up the stairs, stopping before the wide wooden barricades blocking him from his insisting problem. At the sound of another bang, Bruce threw open the door, mouth ajar to yell at whatever sort of rodent had made its way to his front door.

His eyes met bright blues.

* * *

It had been over a year since Bruce had broken off his relationship with Victoria.

After meeting once again at LaFrange's Art Gallery and having drinks together, the girl had somehow squeezed herself into his life. Movies, parties, balls, art shows, vacations to Paris, he gave her the grand tour of the spoiled life. For a year she came for weekly dinners, called him when he went overseas for business, stayed at the hospital when he masqueraded the Batman wounds for a mishap car wreck. For a year, Bruce felt himself relax.

But relaxation distracts, relaxation opens doors for clouded judgments, relaxation leads to happiness, which in turn could lead a path to love, a commitment Bruce knew he wasn't able to give.

It hadn't been easy, it was actually harder then Bruce had thought it to be. Her suspicions might have been why she didn't seem so shocked it ended. He knew she questioned him constantly, even though she never voiced them.

And just like that, Victoria McGreggor had fallen off his radar and out of his world for a year.

* * *

"Bruce."

It almost sounded like a sigh of relief, but her voice sounded to heavy to know for a fact.

"Victoria," Bruce sounded out slowly, not having tasted the name for months. "What, what are you doing here?"

She looked at him strangely, but Bruce was so sleep deprived he couldn't put his finger quite on it. Her car was pulled up the drive way and still on, headlights flashing right at the door and straight at his face.

He squinted as she continued to stare.

"Victoria," He said with more vigor. "What are you doing here?"

She took a moment before answering. "I'm leaving."

Bruce took his turn to stare at the woman before him, not sure if he should do so with concern or with exasperation.

"So you came by to give your farewells?"

She shot him something like a glare, but the lights were still to bright to tell. Why on earth would she leave the car on? Did she think she would need to make a high speed chase if he were to run after her with his undying proclamation of love?

"Where I'm going," She started, her voice finally becoming more fragile and cracked. "I can't...It's not safe for me to take a heavy load."

Bruce's face must have been a sight of complete confusion, because the next thing he knew her face scrunched into an almost painful grimace and she turned back towards the running vehicle.

Was that it? She was leaving like that? Heavy load? Why was this woman always so damn confusing.

But she wasn't going to drive away, she was reaching into the passenger's seat.

She pulled back, gently closing the car door to walk back him, clutching a small bundle and a new found bag tucked under her arm. When she was face to face with him once more, something in the back of his mind started yelling code red at the top of its lungs.

"You always told me you were a man of his word," She said softly. "And that we as human beings have a promise to protect those who are innocent, but it's the choice that shows who we are as people."

She clutched a green blanket close to her chest, like a girl would with a teddy bear when frightened.

"Will you keep that promise, Bruce?" She asked, staring into his eyes, and also his soul. "Will you protect those of innocence?"

Bruce wasn't sure if he had nodded or not, but suddenly he had a small weight placed into his hands and a small duffel bag placed at his feet. At first he was sure it was an animal or something, but the movements of the bundle were too well placed and less sporadic.

Shifts and tugs from the being inside gave way to a sight Bruce would forever have engraved in his mind. A small face, pale and round with youth peeked out from the warm fabric to stare back with bright baby blues that put his mother's to shame. Tuffs of black hair leaking out to frame the child's undeveloped head. Pouted lips pressed together as a small whimper sounded, telling of the baby's want of warmth.

Bruce subconsciously tucked the baby closer to his chest, hoping his body warmth was enough to satisfy the child in the apparently cold summer air. A light drizzle began to fall as Bruce looked up to see the mother of this child smile sadly, tracing a plump cheek as the child drew himself deeper into the billionaire's arms.

"Take care of him, Bruce."

And she was gone. Her car drove out the front gates and down the long road that lead from his private estate back to the city. Leaving him staring into the rain and with a baby snuggling into his chest.

* * *

**So here's the next chapter! I know it's short, but I really just wanted to get baby Dick finally introduced! And here are a few things:**

**1. I do not know how far away Gotham is from Metropolis, so forgive me if the timing was off, it was required for the story.  
**

**2. The reason I say Wayne Manor is church like is because I was looking at the house they used for Dark Knight and it reminds me a lot of middle ages/notre dame like cathedrals.  
**

**3. I want some help. For Dick's name, seeing as his last name will be Wayne instead of Grayson, should I keep his middle name John, give him the middle name Thomas or both? I personally think Richard Thomas John Wayne has a ring to it :)  
**

**Also, I know since he is his biological son there might be some factors of old dickie we might miss, but I will be bringing some into the story! A few are: Nightmares (mostly about Batman dying and stuff), his stuffed elephant, the Romanian language, acrobatics and love of the circus. There are a few more and if you guys want to see anything specific give me some suggestions.  
**

**More will be up soon! Hope you enjoy!**

**Less than three 3  
**


	3. Sincerely, Mom and Dad

Bruce watched as the baby wriggled in his awkward grasp, finding the arm length gap between his new found father uncomfortable. Bruce gently brought the child closer, their faces now inches apart. The baby giggled lightly, covering his mouth with his little hands like he had a secret.

Alfred smiled as his once only charge try and discover the largest length he could hold the child at without completely holding him. The butler decided to finally make his appearance known when the child reached for his father to only be pulled back once more.

"Master Bruce, your coffee."

Bruce looked over as the butler placed the cup on the side table. The baby laughed at the old man who took his position behind his charge.

Alfred allowed another smile to spread across his face. "Have you found out the child's name?"

Bruce set the child atop his knee to reach into the side of the duffel bag the boy's mother had left. He pulled out a small stack of papers and handed them to the older man.

Alfred quietly shifted through the papers, hearing the baby coo sadly as the billionaire held the child out once more.

"Social security number, birth certificate, health information." Alfred listed off. "Miss Victoria seems to have gathered all the needed documents."

"She knew I was going to need all of his information."

"Richard Thomas John Wayne."

Bruce looked up at his butler with a blank confusion. "What?"

"The boy's name, it says on his birth certificate Richard Thomas John Wayne." Alfred gave his charge an almost glare from the corner of his eye. "Have you not looked at the information yet?"

Bruce stared at Alfred for a moment before looking back at the child greedily reaching for him.

"It seems your father's name was fitting." Alfred turned back to the slip of paper again.

"Her brother's name is John." Bruce stated. "He's stationed in Iraq the last I heard."

"Ah, yes, of course."

The two adults continued to sit in silence with the occasional gurgle from the child who was currently trying to fit his fist in his mouth. Bruce sighed as he allowed the boy to sit on his lap, gently pulling the hand out of his mouth. The baby smiled at the sudden attention and slowly curled his tiny fingers around his father's wrist.

"What am I going to do, Alfred?"

Alfred stared up at the portrait of Thomas and Martha, wishing not for the first time they were here to answer their son's questions.

"What do you believe you _should_ do, Master Bruce?"

The butler heard another sigh. "I'm not- I can't be a father. I don't know how. I will ruin this child's life."

Alfred took a deep breath and turned to face his charge.

"Master Bruce, please excuse me when I say, stop pitying yourself when you have a child craving your attention right in front of you."

Bruce gaped at the man who raised him; the man who grounded him for a week when he 'crud' when he was eleven. The baby let a laugh like gurgle when the adults continued their silent exchange.

"Having a child is not done by one person, Master Bruce," Alfred scolded as Bruce felt embarrassment color his cheeks. "Miss Victoria didn't just decide, all of the sudden, to leave a child in your care."

Bruce said nothing, didn't even look at the child being gently bounced on his knee, not that he even realized he was doing it anyway.

"As unexpected as this night has been, this is in no way a terrible set back." Alfred stated. He gently folded the documents and set them onto the table beside Bruce's neglected coffee. "You have in your hands and now in your life. I know this is scary," Bruce gave him a look, but Alfred continued. "And you are probably less prepared then most parents in this situation, but I know for a fact that those nine years your father spent with you will leave you with the wisdom you need for this boy. The love your mother showed to everyone, especially you and your father, will be what guides you to show Master Richard how to treat others."

Bruce watched blue eyes gaze into his, their glassy tear covering threatening to fall as he made a strained cry, pushing his total weight towards his father. Bruce continued to hold the child at length, but for the first time that night and since his parents murder, he felt that if the emotion rose high enough, he might cry.

"I trust you will not be getting much sleep for the rest of the day, I took the liberty of canceling your flight and left a message for your receptionist that you will be out of work for the next few days."

Bruce heard Alfred turn to leave the room and called after him. "Alfred, will you please call Lucius and Leslie."

"Of course, sir. I will see to their attendance as soon as possible."

Bruce sat for a while longer, gazing up at the portrait of his parents that hung proudly over the fireplace. Life was cruel, fate was unfair. That was how he had seen it that night and what he continued to believe all through his life.

A long whimper brought his line of sight down to the creature wriggling in his lap, or on the corners of his knees. Richard looked up at the man sadly, pathetically trying to reach for him but soon finding his arms were too heavy and underdeveloped to be held up on their own.

"I guess you don't really know how to function yet, huh?" Bruce asked the baby quietly. "How old are you anyway?"

While he reached over for the documents once more, he felt a sharp pang of shame burn through his chest. He should have looked at the papers before Alfred had seen them, he should have paid more attention.

With one hand he slowly unraveled the neatly folded papers, silently cursing Alfred's manners and ways as he did so. Quickly scanning the birth records and additional health documents, Bruce searched for time of birth.

**Richard Thomas John Wayne**

**Mother: Victoria Annora McGreggor**

**Father: Bruce Thomas Wayne**

**Date of Birth: March 21**

**Place of Birth: Gotham, NY**

**Hospital of Birth: Gotham General**

**Blood Type: AB Negative**

**Hair Color: Black**

**Eye Color: Blue**

**Height: 15 inches**

**Weight: 6.8 pounds**

Bruce looked over the papers and at the child seemingly trying to pick off the skin of his wrist. Three months. He had a three month old in his hands. Shouldn't they be...bigger? Bruce wasn't as exposed to infants as most people, but he was pretty sure the child was slightly smaller then most.

Setting the papers down, Bruce had both his hands holding the child once more, but still at a safe distance. Bruce hoped the child would give up and fall asleep or something, babies like to sleep a lot, right? But the child continued to lean close as his little body would allow and gently claw at his father's strong arms.

"Why are you trying so hard?" Bruce heard himself asking the child. "You shouldn't want me, you're not going to want me later on, when you're old enough to understand. When you _see _who, what I am."

The baby continued holding onto him, not turning his head or showing any signs he heard the man's voice.

Bruce felt his face scrunch into a grimace. "Everyone's gone. My parents, your mother. There's no one but me and you will most definitely not enjoy that when you're older."

_Everyone's left me. No one wants me,_ Bruce felt himself add silently._ Why would you be any different?_

Then, those beautiful cerulean orbs decided to look up at him with such innocent trust that Bruce felt his walls crumble, the resolve seeming to just be a continuous battle with himself now. This baby, this child had no one left. His mother left him without even a memory left engraved in his mind that will last after a few days now that she won't be there to daily renew it. That side of his life was gone, left with a duffel bag and nothing else. This baby was just like him.

But this child had a chance, had him, to make him different. The hope that he won't end up in the same place as this man whose affection he was vying for so much. His son would not end up like him. That was what Bruce had to push for.

His arms gently redrew toward to his chest, slowly dragging the baby closer into his protection. A delighted, sloppy smile came with the final acceptance and Bruce knew he would never let Richard more then two feet away from him if that was the smile he would receive from being so close to his presence.

The infant explored the new territory. Clumsy fingers picked at shirt buttons, a tiny forehead tested the comfort of the strong chest under the cotton. Apparently it was more then the child had thought because

Bruce felt him nuzzle against his body for deeper warmth.

While Richard continued having adventures on his shirt, Bruce experimentally let his face make it's way closer to the thin layer of hair cover the pale scalp. His nose brushed the feeling of Chinese silk and the heavenly scent of a morning fog. Hesitantly his eyes closed, his body curled slightly around the small being in his grasp.

Richard must have felt the silent water falling onto his head, because soon Bruce felt his button nose brushing against the tear tracks lining his cheeks. Soft skin met his own rough double, craniums clashing in a gentle embrace.

Father and son seemed to stop moving as the faces stayed inches apart. This, they shared in thought, was right, how it should be.

They didn't have to be alone if they kept that promise and lonely plea to each other that passed between them.

_I don't want to be alone._

_Don't worry. I'm here. I will always be here, from now on._

* * *

**So, first let me say, yes I did not have a year on Dick's birth certificate. Reason being I don't want to attach a specific year to him so that I can go where ever I want with the age and what not. Also, I'm mostly sure Gotham is in NY but if wrong please let me know so I can fix it. Next chapter will deal with Lucius and Leslie and all that fun stuff, and then later just a whole lotta Daddybats fluff :) I might not have it up for a while seeing as I want to get the next Trial of a Parent chapter up and those usually take me a lot longer (dunno why :/ ) But maybe not! I'll try to go fast!**

**Please review and all that :) Less than three!**


	4. The Parents, The Doctor And The Boy

Dr. Leslie Thompson has been called by Alfred late at night for many reasons. Bone fractures, near brain damage, internal bleeding. Never in her life would she think, or bet, that she would be called for a personal matter. Nor would she expect to find an infant tucked protectively against his chest like a mother hen.

Leslie had been friends with the Wayne's since meeting Martha in primary school, the petite red head having just transferred into Miss Yannick's biology class. Leslie was shocked at how despite her intellectual abilities slightly lacking, the girl could charm teachers and students alike; including herself, while she argued against it. Leslie fought the attraction at first, but soon she found herself helping in the labs and tutoring in the library. As they progressed through education and through their friendship, Thomas soon made his appearance into their lives. Before marrying, Martha and Thomas became the news of the aristocracy of Gotham, arriving arm in arm at balls and theme parks alike.

She still remembered the day when Martha came bounding into her clinic, back from visiting Thomas in Thailand where he was treating a group of malnourished children. With her pleated chiffon and fake furs, as Martha didn't believe in animal cruelty, she pulled her friend from her chair and happily announced she had news to share. Martha was always one to exaggerate, Leslie knew, meaning a less the excited doctor who was lacking many hours of sleep. This, however, was appropriate.

Little did the Gotham public know was that Martha Wayne was pregnant two months before taking the Wayne name. Leslie was first to know, Martha having figured out just before leaving Thailand and wanting to surprise Thomas when he was back in the states.

"_He'll be back a month before the wedding," Martha laughed at Leslie's questioning brow. "That's enough time for him to know."_

"_Martha," Leslie scolded. "He's your husband-"_

"_Oh come now, Les. I'm not a Wayne yet. 'Sides," Martha winked. "Thomas should know better then to get me plump after having all my fittings finished."_

Thomas had been ecstatic, as Leslie had known he would. After missioning his skills in many different countries and volunteering his services at Leslie's newly opened clinic, Thomas had hinted on more then one occasion at having a family. They waited a month after the wedding to announce the pregnancy, and with Martha's petite figure it was believable with her lack of bump.

As the weeks built up, Thomas was anything but patient. Though he never said so, it was obvious he was expecting, praying for a son. He would love his child wither way, but he had told Leslie on many occasions his fears.

"_Will I have to learn how to braid hair, or will Martha always handle that?"_

"_Do girls like baseball?"_

"_Does that mean she'll completely hate going to Saturday games?"_

"_Les, will this mean more money going into the shopping budget?"_

"_Thomas?" Leslie had finally answered. _

"_Yeah?"_

"_No matter what gender your demon offspring is, he will have you as a father and that alone will bring upon itself its own problems."_

"_Ouch."_

Lucky for Thomas, the sonogram revealed a boy; even God knew Bruce would never survive as a female. As soon as the question was answered, presents were bought. Clothes, shoes, toys, even necessities that wouldn't be needed into the child's teen years. The nursery that had been used for Thomas as an infant was expanded. Walls were repainted and new furniture decorated the young environment.

On February 19th, 7:30 AM at Gotham National Hospital, seven pounds and six ounces, sixteen and a half inches. A normal, healthy and substantially wealthy child. Not to mentioned spoiled as hell.

The years went by and the boy grew older, bringing along youthful sass.

"_No." _

_Leslie felt a vain in the back of her eye twitch. She gave the three year old a scowl as she tried to bring the thermometer back towards his mouth. _

"_Bruce, I need to take your temperature. It's very important."_

"_Make me."_

"_Bruce!" Martha exclaimed, smacking Thomas's arm as he gave a smuggled chuckle. _

"_No!" He whined to his mother. _

"_Don't try me, boy." Leslie warned. _

"_No."_

"_Fine, have it your way." Leslie firmly grasped the boy's jaw in her hand and squeezed the hinges until his mouth popped open. Bruce gave a shocked gasp and wriggled around as Leslie clamped his mouth shut around the glass stick. _

"_Mm huhh." He said through sealed lips._

"_Excuse me?" Leslie questioned as she retracted the instrument, letting a smug smirk painting her face._

"_You suck."_

Arrogant and stubborn as the boy was, no one deserved what he went through. The night Martha and Thomas were murdered was a night she'll never forget. At two o' clock in the morning, Leslie received a phone call saying she was needed at the Gotham Police Department right away. She didn't know what she had expected, but seeing nine year old Bruce Wayne curled in a ball with a jacket three sizes too big wrapped around his shoulders was not on the top of her list. Alfred was in the lead detectives office and for the first time in her years of knowing the english man, she witnessed his temper get the best of him as he waved his hands in anger at the man behind the desk.

Bruce had been placed in the corner where bustling cops could keep an eye on him while they ran around the department during the midnight rush. When Leslie approached him he didn't even acknowledge his presence. He only watched Alfred through the window. He flinched away when she touched his shoulder, almost bruising her wrist with the grip he had. She made sure he calmed down before looking him over for injuries.

"_They're gone."_

_Leslie looked up at the young boy who stared absently towards her prodding hands. _

"_Sweetheart?"_

_She usually never used nicknames or pet names, but somehow it just slipped out. _

"_Mom and dad," He chocked. "They got shot."_

_Leslie knelt before him, looking deep into his dark eyes. "Bruce,"_

"_He wanted dad's money, or maybe it was mom's pearls." Bruce's mouth twisted into a pinched grimace, the face he got whenever she tried to check his temperature. "I don't . . . remember."_

_Leslie gently squeezed his knee. "That's okay, you don't have to remember."_

"_Yes I do!" He exclaimed suddenly. _

_Before Leslie could reply to his outburst, Bruce leaned closer, tears brimming the edges of his eyes. _

"_That was the last time I was-" He stopped to suck back the words down his throat along with his tears. "I'll never see them again. I have to remember."_

_Leslie blinked, nodded her understanding, but as the child slowly sat straighter and turned back to the window, those were the most horrific words she had ever heard. _

She helped Alfred through Bruce's teen years, helped push him to achieving a college degree. After graduating Bruce dropped off the earth. She never heard from him until he returned from his world travels for what he called a "long overdo checkup". Smart ass.

When Batman had first appeared she thought nothing of it; then the house calls started. She argued with Bruce after she found out, making him leaver her in the dark about a lot of things he did during his trips into the Gotham night life.

She accepted it it her own way, knowing if she didn't get over herself at some point he would split an artery or sleep with a concussion. Soon it became part of their every day life and routine. Years passed without any changes or anyone she knew closely getting murdered in an ally.

She knew it wouldn't last, he was Bruce Wayne, the devil spawn of Thomas Wayne and silent trouble maker like Martha. She'd hoped he would surprise her by saying he was settling down. She'd surely slap the hell out of him for that one and for that poor girl he would rope in.

A baby, however, had never once crossed her mind.

"Whose child is that?" She asked.

Alfred was hanging her coat by the door, silently watching his charge's surrogate mother take in the situation.

"His name is Richard." Bruce answered in an evasive tone.

He had been pacing the room for the last hour, waiting for Lucius and Leslie to show up. He'd hoped Lucius would haul ass and get there first, knowing how to talk to a man and explain to a business man. He knew Leslie would most likely be at the clinic, still awake and trying to treat patients showing up at three in the morning. He knew she would show up first, but with her finally here he started regretting calling her in the first place.

Leslie stood there with her arms crossed and her hip cocked just slightly left; her "you better have an explanation" look.

He understood her shock, or whatever she was feeling. Since Alfred had left to call his two close associates, Richard had fallen asleep in his newly accepted father's arms. With the infant finally no longer clawing at him, Bruce had paced his entire living room 208 times. Through the movements he had unconsciously started bouncing the child softly in his arms. He had adjusted the child's blanket five times, changed his position three times, sat down at one point and maybe checked for a heartbeat once or twice.

Babies were new to him, he didn't know anything about being a parent. This child was going to die on his watch, he just knew it. He needed help, and that's why he was secretly glad it was Leslie who came first.

"That wasn't my question, Bruce." She snapped. "Whose child?"

Bruce didn't answer, deciding to walk over to the window and look up at the moon. It was almost fully out of the sky, hiding under the cover of the trees and away from the newly orange sky.

"Did you find him tonight? On the street? Did you decide to save some dumpster child whose mother left him to nature?"

"No!" Bruce exclaimed in shock and sudden fury.

What was she saying? He had never heard Leslie talk like this. How could she decide to say these things about his son?

His son.

That was going to take some getting used to.

Looking down at the slightly a gape mouth and unblinking eyes, he knew he was already used to it.

"Then where did this child come from? I know he didn't just appear from nowhere, unless you forgot to tell me you missed you cycle."

Bruce silently glowered at her from the corner of his gaze. She was always so dramatic.

Now it was time to make her explode.

_Please, _he silently prayed as his fingers slightly brushed against the infant's exposed arm. _Don't wake him up. _

"He's mine."

He had hoped that would quiet her down for a moment, just allow him to ensure the infants slumber, but knowing Leslie, he should have known better.

"Like hell, Bruce. It takes two to tango."

Bruce irritatedly looked to the ceiling.

"Victoria." He answered bluntly. "She dropped him off a few hours ago."

That stopped her for a moment.

"Why would she-"

"I don't know," Bruce felt the bundle in his arms shift for more comfort. He slowly adjusted the child to face his shoulder and allow his father to rub gentle fingers along his fleshy back. "And I don't care."

"Bruce, have you ever taken care of a child?" Leslie asked sternly.

"Of course not."

Leslie watched the billionaire bounce softly to help the wriggling human in his hands fall back to sleep. A white dish towel was thrown over his shoulder, protecting the pristine shirt underneath. He looked ridiculous, as well as exhausted. Even if he did have the experience, the environment he surrounded himself in was no place for a growing child, and she told him as much.

"Leslie, I haven't even had Richard for twelve hours yet. You really think I was expecting something like this?" Bruce snapped. "You know as well as anyone that I never expected or wanted to bring a woman, child or family into my life."

The tension in the atmosphere and Bruce's shoulders were uncomfortable for Richard, who cried out for parental attention from the only person he knew could give it to him. Bruce turned his scowl to one of momentary shock. Moving Richard back to his previous position on his back, Bruce cooed and shushed the infant knowingly; having gained experience from the last few hours. The doctor watched Bruce bring the baby almost face to face, giving stubby arms better access to facial feature. Cries and whines became soft whimpers which turned to throaty gurgles when his fingers were clasped, squeezed and caressed with split lips.

Richard's gaze was consumed with manly attributes, a strong jaw, narrow nose, soft cheekbones, and faded bruises. Why had he been crying again? He had his protection and comfort right here, full attention.

"Bruce," Leslie started.

"No Leslie, listen." Bruce sadly tore his face and lips from smooth fingers, opening up a new onslaught of cries. "I know I said I never wanted a family and I have never opened myself to anyone, but this is different. He _needs_ me."

Leslie wanted to give in, she wanted to believe Bruce was going to give himself to this child one hundred percent. With Bruce, though, you could never know. What if he changed his mind? What about that poor child?

She needed proof.

"No more explaining until Lucius gets here, I don't want to have to hear the whole story twice."

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**Wow, this took forever. I am so sorry! I have been working on this chapter on and off for weeks. As soon as I'd start it I'd have to leave and do other stuff and then I got busy...It's been a while. Sorry. The problem is I usually only write at night, but I get tired and other stuff happens. Anyway, I didn't really know how to approach this chapter, and I wished it had been longer but I really wanted to get a new chapter up for you guys. I need to get the next Months In A Year chapter up and I have an idea for Trials Of A Parent. But I wanna focus on this story so I can get it going and set the setting up. UGH! **

**Another thing, I wanted ya'll's opinion on this story. I'm thinking this will be a chronological story about Bruce/Dick being father/son and kind of about Victoria and then I would have another story or one shots about cute fluff moments between the years. I don't know what I'd call the series yet, but suggestions are welcome :) I'm hoping to have another chapter up soon but...**

**PS, I'm having Bruce call Dick Richard because he just met him, but soon he'll give him the nickname!**

**Please comment and enjoy, less then three!**


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